


Grief

by MANBEAST



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Gen, Pre-The Trials of Apollo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-29
Updated: 2016-06-29
Packaged: 2018-07-19 00:32:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7337356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MANBEAST/pseuds/MANBEAST
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens to Castor after he dies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grief

**Author's Note:**

> Warning  
> The following text contains swearing, violence and references that may be considered offensive by some audiences. Reader discretion is advised.  
> Spoilers in end notes, don't read before the text.

 

When someone dies, those around them go through the five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. However, no one considers that maybe the dead go through the same.

 

 

Denial

 _I can’t be dead._  
I woke up on a dusty grey carpet, muzak playing quietly overhead. The carpet was worn and faded, all trace of warmth or comfort gone. Around me dozens of people lounged around on black furniture, although none of them paid me any attention.  
“What’s your name, lad?” I heard from above me. I looked up to see a tall dark-skinned man in a silk Italian suit glaring down at me expectantly from a podium.  
“Where am I?” I mumbled, half to the man, half to myself. “I was just fighting and…”  
I froze as the memory of the enemy half-blood entered my mind, the pain of his blade piercing my arm, the crack of my skull shattering as he brought the butt of his sword down on my head. I forced myself to look down at my arm and saw that there was still a gaping wound, though no blood was coming out. If I had been in control of my limbs, I would have raised my arm to the top of my head and felt the dent of my concaved cranium, again without pain. I wasn’t in control of my limbs however, and they started to shake.  
“No. No. I can’t be…”  
“A demigod, I assume,” remarked the man on the podium. “You don’t see many mortals dying of wounds like that these days,” he said, pointing at my arm.  
“Plus, normally souls have to make their way here or sometimes I have to go fetch them. You just appeared here, along with this bag of drachmas,” he said greedily, tossing a small satchel into the air that jingled as it moved. “Someone, probably your godly parent, paid quite handsomely to get you over to the other side, save you waiting around here for a few centuries. Express shipping, if you will,” said the man as a smirk flashed on his mouth for a moment before returning to his default frown. “Now, I’ll ask you again. What’s your name?”  
“Castor, my name’s Castor. Where am I? Who are you?”  
Upon hearing my name, his harsh glare softened a little and he spoke in a slightly more soothing tone, something his voice was obviously not accustomed to.  
“Oh, you’re Castor. I’m sorry to hear that. My name’s Charon and this is the entrance to the underworld.”  
Slowly standing up, I turned and faced him.  
“But…But I’m not dead.”  
“I’m sorry lad, I’m afraid you are. Look closely at your hands.”  
I did what he said, looking down at my palms. It took me a moment, but after a few seconds I noticed I could see through them. Charon climbed down from his podium and laid a hand on my shoulder. “Come on, let’s get you on the boat.” He turned and set off toward a pair of elevator doors on the far wall, talking more to himself than to me. “Oh Castor, your mother’s going to be distraught.”  
I didn’t move a step, instead calling after him. “Where does that lead,” I asked, raising my hand toward the doors. He turned back to look at me but said nothing, knowing exactly where it lead and knowing I did too. “I’m not dead. This is just a mistake, or a trick. I’m not dead.”  
“I believe you lad,” he said, his voice void of sincerity. “But I can’t do anything about it. Come see the judges of the dead with me, and when they realise you’re not dead you’ll be free to go. Does that seem reasonable?”  
It was clear to anyone that he was lying, but I had no reason to believe that he was. I wasn’t dead, I couldn’t be. I still had so much to do and say, so much to get done before my life was over. My transparent hands were just an illusion, or maybe I was dreaming. Whatever the case, what was the harm of going to see the judges? They’d realise I wasn’t dead, and then I could go back to camp. Back to Pollux. I walked over to where Charon was standing and he guided me toward the door.

Inside the elevator, a couple dozen people were milling around and they looked up expectantly as Charon entered the large carriage. Several people from the lobby made a quick dash towards the elevator, however not fast enough, as Charon turned and shoved them to the ground.  
“Wait your turn!” Charon bellowed, and the spirits backed away. Charon inserted a key card into the elevator panel, and we started to move down.  
After a few minutes, one of the spirits crammed in next to me asked “How’d you die?”  
“I didn’t,” I replied. “I’m still alive.”  
The elevator paused for a moment, and then began to move sideways.  
“Oh, you’re one of the ones who still haven’t come to terms with their death, are you?” Deep, sincere pity flashed across the spirit’s face just before it was covered by a hood as her clothes morphed into torn, grey robes.  
“You’ll come to accept your death eventually dear,” she said from under the hood of her cloak. “We all do, eventually.”  
I was about to object when my clothes followed the trend and morphed into a grey cloak, the elevator transforming into a wooden boat around us. Charon’s suit changed into black robes and his face became skeletal, his eyes dark pits lacking any colour or light. My surroundings became the dark murky waters of the River Styx, and Charon slowly paddled us across it.

With every stroke of Charon’s paddle, I felt better. Not emotionally, I was still terrified of the thought that I might lose everything I cared about; camp and my brother and a future. But physically, strength returned to my bones. The closer I got to the land of the dead, the more alive I felt, the more powerful I felt I was becoming. Finally we hit the far bank of the river and Charon gestured for us all to get off. I leapt from the ferry, with more athleticism than I ever knew I had and marched toward the gates, ready to confront the judges of the dead. I turned and looked back at Charon, standing like a statue at the prow of his raft.  
“Wait right there Charon, I’ll be back”  
He looked back at me with that soulless gaze, yet I swear I could see a hint of pity in those black holes of eyes.  
“Goodbye Castor, and I’m sorry,” he called from the edge of his boat as he pushed it from the shore. “I always hate to see family down here.”

The waiting was the worst part. I stood in that line of ghosts, waiting to reach the judgement pavilion for what felt like days, although time had no meaning in that cold, lifeless place. Occasionally I’d see Charon, arriving to drop off more spirits on that desolate beach and I’d wave to him in the hope that he’d see me and wait, ready to take me back when I was pronounced alive but he never did. And so I continued to wait. The power that I had felt rise up inside me was still there but dormant, fatigued by the slow passing of time. Finally the monotonous shuffle of feet carried me to the doorstep of the judges and I walked inside, their verdict the only thing standing between me and my old life. Seated on raised thrones, the judges looked down at me, some with pity and others with bored disregard.  
“Who do we have here?” asked one of the judges, maybe Thomas Jefferson.  
“My name’s Castor,” I replied, their collective gaze almost as intimidating as the giant three headed dog that had been watching me outside.  
“Full name, please,” asked another judge wearily.  
“Castor Seed Oil.”  
“Well Castor Oil, let’s have a look at what you did in your life shall we?” asked someone who looked like Gandhi.  
“But Sir, I’m not dead.”  
Raucous laughter erupted from the pavilion. A few kind spirits including the lady from the boat refrained but most broke down into tears of joy, laughing at my pain and misfortune, an oddly piercing sound after the constant moans and wails of the dead. Soon the noise died down and one of the judges wiped a tear from his eye.  
“Really boy?! You’ve been dead what, three months? And you still haven’t accepted you death?! That’s a joke!”  
Three months! How could it have been so long? I started to shake again, all assurance I’d built up in my mind that I was alive torn down. What had happened while I was gone? What had happened to Pollux? I couldn’t bear to think what he would have had to go through because I wouldn’t’ve been able to carry on if he had died and I know he felt the same.  
“You’re wrong. I…I can’t be dead.”  
“It seems like he was kind to everyone. Died defending his home. He seems good to me,” continued Gandhi, deciding to ignore me and talking to his colleagues.  
“Hey! Shut the fuck up Gandhi. I’m not dead!”  
“Well, other than being quite rude, I think this boy is fairly deserving of Elysium,” remarked Abraham Lincoln. “All those in agreement…” Lincoln raised his hand, briefly followed by everyone else except Gandhi who gave me a sour look.  
“Elysium,” yelled Shakespeare, slamming down a gavel.

I woke up in a warm, cosy bed, the smell of chocolate and petrol on those days when you’re just feeling a bit out there in the air. Soft, calming music was playing somewhere nearby, and I looked around to see people peacefully kayaking around on a lake. It was literal hell.  
“Welcome brother. Always good to see a fellow half-blood that died with honour.”  
I turned to see a man with a deep tan and muscular frame gazing at me.  
“This is Elysium brother. I am Aeneas.”  
“Wait, **the** Aeneas?” I asked, astounded. “As in, hero of Troy Aeneas?”  
“That’s me. I love welcoming new souls to Elysium, getting off on the right foot considering how much time we’re going to be spending together. Probably all of eternity, due to the fact that we’re both dead!” He punched my shoulder playfully and gave me a beaming smile not at all suitable to follow his last statement.  
“If you’ve got any questions for me brother, feel free to ask. I love answering questions!”  
As he watched me with his unsettling smile, one eye started to wander off to my right. I turned to see what his one eye was looking at, but nothing seemed to have changed. I turned back and both Aeneas’s eyes were fixed back on me, still watching me expectantly for a question.  
“Um…Why do you keep calling me brother? I thought your godly parent was Aphrodite.”  
“We’re all siblings here brother!” he exclaimed excitedly, punching my shoulder again. He either didn’t know his own strength or didn’t care but he was a buff dude and I wasn’t exactly the most athletic. His punches were hurting a little more than I thought playful punches should. His unsettling demeanour and broad shoulders had hidden the room behind him from view, upon glancing past him I was taken aback by what I saw.  
“Um, Aeneas.”  
“Yes?”  
“Why is there a giant cheese grater behind you?”  
He looked over his shoulder at the person sized cheese grater sitting ominously a few metres away from him, then turned back to me.  
“Don’t mind him, that’s just Alexander.”  
“Why is it here?”  
“ **He’s** here for the same reason you are, earnt his place here just as you did.”  
“But Aeneas...”  
“Yes?”  
“He’s a cheese grater.”  
“What’s your point?”  
“What’s my poi…what could he possibly have done to earn a place in Elysium?! He’s…It’s a bloody cheese grater! What can it even do?!”  
“Well, he can grate cheese.”  
“…Anything else?”  
“Ugh…He can probably grate carrots as well.”  
“Can it do anything that doesn’t involve grating?”  
“Well, probably not. What do you expect from him Castor, he’s just a cheese grater?”  
“How do you know my name?”  
“Alexander told me.”  
“……………”  
We stared at each other for several moments, unsure of how to proceed.  
“So…how’d you die brother?”  
Suddenly something inside me broke.

 

 

Anger

I think my mind just gave up; it was tired of trying to argue that I wasn’t dead. Maybe standing in Elysium, talking to Aeneas and his friend Alexander the grater was enough of a shock to set me straight. I started to shake again but instead of fighting it, instead of denying the truth, I embraced it. Hatred flowed into me, coursing through my veins and giving me more strength than blood ever did. It filled my mind and unleashed the force that had stored itself inside of me. I looked down at the gash in my arm, unhealed because there was no body to heal. My soul was all that was left, an echo of what I was, yet with so much more energy. I got angry and my mind searched desperately for someone to direct it at. Kronos for starting this war, the death gods for bringing me to the underworld, that stupid son of Hades for not saving me at the battle before my thoughts finally settled on the fucker that killed me. Had he died in the battle?  
“Aeneas, is there a way to find specific people down here?”  
“If you’re talking about people in Elysium, you’ll probably run into them eventually, there’s not too many of us and we’re together for all of eternity, right brother,” he said, punching me again which was starting to get very annoying, painfully so. “If you just mean those plebs hanging around elsewhere, probably not. There are a lot of dead people; it’d take you a while to find them even with all the time we have.”  
“Aeneas, I **need** a way to find if someone’s dead.”  
“Why is it so important?” Aeneas asked. “Just wait around for a hundred years, tops. If they’re mortal they’ll probably be dead by then anyway.”  
“I need to know Aeneas!” I yelled. “Because if he’s not dead, I’ll kill him myself!”  
The smile on Aeneas’s face lessened for just a moment.  
“What are you going to do if it turns out they’re already dead?” queried Aeneas.  
“We find out what happens to souls that die in the underworld.”  
“Oh, everyone knows that!” exclaimed Aeneas, again smiling more than he should. “They go to Tartarus!”

“Is there _any_ way to find out if someone’s dead or not? I need to find this person Aeneas.”  
“I’m afraid not brother, the only people who’d have access to a list like that would be gods like Thanatos, or Hades himself.”  
Anger roared up inside me. Hades, Thanatos, these fucking death gods are the reason I’m down here. If not for them I’d be able to walk free. I turned and started walking toward the gates of Elysium.  
“If Hades has the answers, I’ll go ask him.”  
“Hold up there brother!” called Aeneas, dashing forward and placing a hand firmly on my shoulder. “You can’t just walk out and talk to the lord of the dead. There are rules. Boundaries.”  
“Fuck the rules and the boundaries!” I yelled, pushing his hand off my shoulder. “I’m going to talk to Hades, whether the rules and boundaries say I can or not.”  
I started to walk away and heard the screech of metal, the unmistakable sound of a sword being drawn.  
“This is the last time I will tell you brother. You’re not going to leave Elysium.”  
I turned to face him, saw the gleaming sword in his hand wielded by a strong, well-trained arm and thought only one thing.  
“Aeneas, go fuck yourself.”  
“I’m sorry brother,” he said, and charged.

Being the son of Dionysus, I had two kinds of powers. One kind I channelled through the right side of my body, my power over plants. The other kind was channelled through my left side and I rarely used it. It was my power of madness; I didn’t use them for a few reasons. In part I didn’t use them was because they were difficult, like they were something I wasn’t meant to control. I always felt more comfortable using my nature powers to help people, so that’s generally what I stuck with. I also rarely used my madness powers because training them at camp wasn’t really an option, I couldn’t exactly practise sending training dummies insane.

When Aeneas ran toward me sword drawn I contemplated using my left side to stop him but looking at those eyes, constantly shifting and that crazy smile I knew it’d have no effect. So instead I lifted my right hand and screamed, a twinge of pain sparked behind my right eye. Grape vines erupted from the ground and streaked toward Aeneas, lashing themselves around his limbs. He slashed a few to pieces but more wrapped him up and pulled the sword from his hands, tossing it to the floor. They raised him from the ground and pulled him against a pillar, pinning him crucifixion style.  
“Don’t try to follow me Aeneas,” I warned as I started to walk away.  
“Stop him Alexander!” cried Aeneas.  
Alexander didn’t move, because it was a cheese grater.  
I passed by unharmed and set off toward the gates.  
“Brother, the guards can’t let you leave!” Aeneas called after me.  
“The guards can’t stop me,” I replied.

After a short walk and kayak hitchhike across the lake, I came to the tall gates indicating the border between Elysium and the underworld beyond. Standing nine metres tall and topped with barbed wire and spikes the fence circled Elysium. Its primary purpose was to keep ordinary souls out, though it intimidated those on the inside all the same. Two guards stood watch at the door; ghostly figures that appeared slightly transparent like the rest of us, yet their armour and menacing bayoneted muskets seemed very real. I approached them cautiously, a little unnerved when they turned their soulless eyes toward me.  
“I’m leaving Elysium,” I managed to say after finding my voice. The two guards said nothing, instead crossing their guns in front of me in a clear indication of their stance of the topic. I flexed the fingers of my right hand, ready to summon more vines but my fingers were sore and my arm was tired. I hadn’t realised just how much energy the last use had taken, although in retrospect I normally only helped plants grow, not make my own and especially not that many. The guards took a step forward, obviously getting annoyed by my loitering. While I wasn’t sure if my right side was strong enough to take on two more people, my left side buzzed with energy, desperate to get free. As the guards took another step I made my decision and pain flared up behind my left eye. The guards paused for a moment, and then took a step back. One guard removed the blade from his musket and disembowelled himself with it, what was left of his spectral organs falling across the floor. The other guard shoved his bayonet, still attached to his gun, into the bottom of his chin and pulled the trigger. Both guards fell to the ground and began to fade, their spirit sinking into the depths of Tartarus. I stepped over their bodies as they slowly disappeared and walked out of the gate into the vast fields that lay beyond.

The trek took a while, given the distance that lay between Elysium and Hades’ palace but it gave me time to regain my strength, I knew I’d need it where I was going. After the gate no one tried to stop me, I was just another hooded figure in the mass of ghouls and ghosts standing around aimlessly. I wondered how many were new like me, angry at their deaths or denying they had happened. How many had passed that point, tired and fed up with fighting their deaths. How many were so old and delusional they didn’t know they were dead, or knew and didn’t care. This was everyone’s lives, or deaths rather, down here, aeons of standing around and letting time pass by meaninglessly with only memories and the slow approach of insanity for company. Most of these people standing around in the Fields of Asphodel were good, kind people, innocent only of having an ordinary life and yet were condemned to a Hell worse than any labour in the Fields of Punishment, and perhaps even Tartarus. I put my head down and kept walking, my feet a happier sight than my surroundings.

Finally I stood before a new gate, the palace of Hades rising up before me. Now that I was here, I wasn’t sure what to do. Did I knock? Start screaming to be let in? Thankfully I was saved from having to make a decision when the panel in the door was slid open and a guard on the other side spoke two amazing life changing words that I’ll never forget.  
“Go away.”  
The panel slammed shut and all was quiet.  
“Um…excuse me.”  
Another quick open and close, the guard inside repeating himself.  
“Go away.”  
“Hey, open the door!” I yelled, banging on the door.  
“Go away.”  
I took a step back and held out my right hand. Grape vines shot from the ground, wrapping around the hinges of the gate. I began to squeeze my fist and more rose from the black soil, wrapping and winding around the gate and each other until they were pillars as thick as trees. I was tiring quickly so I gave a shout and the energy that had appeared inside me upon arrival broke free, rushing down my arm into my fingers and powering my production of vines. They weaved into the cracks of the gate and I jerked my arm back, my plants complying and tearing the gate from its hinges, throwing it to the ground. Ten guards stood facing me with an assortment of rifles and other guns but before any could fire my pillars of vine arced down, impaling each spirit in the gut and rooting them to the earth. I walked into the grounds of the palace as they started to fade and saw one guard who was scrambling away on the ground.  
“Go away go away go away!”  
I paused for a moment and looked at him, terror looking back at me from the depths of his eyes. I bent down, picked up a shotgun lying at my feet and shot the guard square in the head, watching him fade to nothing.  
“I told you to let me in,” I growled.

I stormed down the obsidian halls, skeletal guards watching me on either side but making no attempt to stop me. I was so hyped up on adrenaline I doubt they could have stopped me if they wanted to. I came to the door of the throne room, two spirits with rocket propelled grenade launchers standing in front who immediately stepped aside as I approached, offering no objection as I walked through the open door. Before me stood Hades’ throne, bones fused together in a grotesque formation resembling a chair. It was empty. A few metres behind stood a smaller throne, occupied by an attractive woman with flowers in her long black hair.  
“You’re Persephone, right?” I asked as this woman was obviously a goddess and anyone who hadn’t been kidnapped wouldn’t be sitting around willingly in Hades’ palace. “Where’s Hades?”  
A smirked flickered across Persephone’s face. “He’s…around.”  
“Don’t be cryptic with me bitch!” I yelled, starting across the floor toward her. “Where the hell is Hades?!”  
Suddenly I was overcome by fear, collapsing to my knees as an invisible force worked its way into my brain, searching for and pulling at everything I was afraid of.  
“He’s right in front of you honey,” yawned Persephone as Hades appeared at the foot of his throne, the helm of darkness seated upon his head.

“Do you know how long it took to have that gate built?” grumbled Hades as he took a seat on his throne and looked down at me. “And the guards, you’d think it’d be easy to find good soldiers with so many people dying in wars and such but it turns out you mortals don’t generally want to keep fighting once you’re dead.” He looked down at me with disgust. “You really are just one big annoyance, aren’t you Castor?”  
I barely heard what he said as my thoughts were invaded by darkness and nightmares, his helm shoving dread down my throat and threatening to drive me insane. The images he made me see, the terror he made me feel, the endless Fields of Asphodel were a cheery sight in comparison.  
“You had Elysium boy, you lived a good life and were rewarded yet you threw it away over some grudge. Now, I will drive you insane and you will spend the rest of eternity in the Fields of Punishment. Building gates from hot metal perhaps,” he said, turning to his wife. “That seems fitting.”  
I felt his concentration increase and the darkness in my mind doubled, the limits of my sanity pushed nearly to breaking. I thought of my anger, my hatred for my murderer and for Hades and channelled it. I drew up all my energy and screamed, forcing the images from my brain. Hades’ head was jerked back and slammed against the back of his seat causing him to recoil in pain.  
“AGH, you piece of shit!” he yelled, clutching the back of his head with his eyes clamped shut. “Guards!”  
Fifty skeletons and ghosts streamed into the room from side doors and formed a circle around me, guns raised and swords drawn.

There was a pause as I regained my breath, Hades gathered himself and Persephone watched her husband, suppressing a laugh. Hades looked up, amazement, concern and maybe even a little fear in his eyes.  
“Impossible. No demigod could resist the powers of my helm other than maybe a child of the underworld. Not even Dionysus’s insanity powers could help you with that.”  
He rubbed the back of his head, his wife waving her hand and a box of aspirin appearing in his lap. “For your headache dear,” remarked Persephone, a hint of amusement still in her voice. He glowered at her for a second before turning back to me. “Guards, kill this fucker, and you better not have a pearl like that upstart Jackson did a few years back.”  
Guns clicked all around me as they were loaded and readied to fire. A few moments later every gun fired but not before I felt a rush of pain behind my left eye. Hundreds of bullets filled the air and not a single one hit me. Some guards shot themselves in the face, others shot each other. I saw two skeletons link arms like they were a couple having a drink on a date but instead of a beverage they then put lead in their mouths, the back of their skulls cracking open like eggshells. Some guards hacked off limbs and heads; others removed their own or others’ organs. I was surrounded by the mass suicide of the dead, their bodies fading to nothing one by one. Hades looked around, his face frozen in astonishment. “All my guards…” he mumbled to himself before coming to his senses and turning on me. “ **Motherfucker!** ”  
He held out his hand and I flew backwards, slamming into the far wall and hovering there, an invisible force pinning me to the rock.  
“Those were some of my best guards!”  
He rose from his throne and stormed across the floor toward me, pure rage etched on his face.  
“What do you want from me?!” he bellowed.  
That’s when I realised it. I’d walked all this way, caused all this destruction and I hadn’t even properly asked myself that question. What did I want?

 

 

Bargaining

“I want to get out,” I said, my anger fading and being replaced with a sense of desperation. “I want to leave this shithole; I want to know if my murderer is already down here or if I need to bring him here myself. Mostly, I just want to get back to my brother.”  
“Oh, that’s nice. Well guess what arsehat, **everyone down here does!** What makes you think you have special rights?!”  
“Because I’m the only one who wants it enough to tear down Hades’ front gate and ask him for it. Please, just send me back to the over world. I’ll give you offerings at every dinner at camp; I’ll spy on Olympus for you. I’ll even kill someone and trade their soul for mine. Please, just let me go back.”  
“Castor,” he said, leaning in close to my face. “I’d rather shit in my hands and clap than grant your request.”  
He drew back his fist which at his godly size was as big as a bowling ball and punched, a strike that would surely pancake my head against his polished obsidian walls.

Suddenly something grabbed me from behind. I was made intangible and pulled through the wall of Hades’ palace, then continued to fly through the air. I accelerated exponentially and in less time than I could register I was travelling so fast the world was a blur. I didn’t realise what was happening for the few seconds I was moving until I stopped so suddenly the inertia should have killed me. I threw up and the stomach acid landed by my feet with a splash far louder than what my stomach contents could generate. I opened my eyes and recoiled, my feet splashing as they moved through the water of the River Styx.  
“How…what….?”  
The waters of the Styx gurgled as if they didn’t appreciate being filled with vomit although they were so polluted it was hard to tell. I continued to scan my surroundings, still unable to fathom where I was. I saw the gates of Erebos in the distance, a few hundred metres downstream, souls standing around in lines waiting to enter the underworld or be judged by Gandhi.  
“Aw shit ’n’ mah dad, how’d I get here?”  
That’s when I realised; I was standing in the River Styx. I nearly dropped the kids off at the pool and stumbled to the shore, collapsing on the black sand. I patted at my legs, still dripping in water that should have been melting my skin to nothing. Once I realised my legs were still intact and their state didn’t seem to be changing, I fell back and lay in the sand, trying to catch my breath. The sand was uncomfortable, it was coarse and rough and irritating and it got everywhere but my mind had been left back in Hades’ palace and was still trying to catch up. That was enough to keep me lying there on the ground, grabbing desperately for my thoughts.

The howl of Cerberus was enough to bring me to my senses after what only seemed like minutes. I turned toward the gate of the underworld and saw spirits streaming out by the dozen, followed by a chariot pulled by jet black horses with shadow in their manes and fire in their eyes. The waves of minions scattered in every direction, spreading out like a bushfire and scouring every inch of land that could be seen or touched.  “Find that shit-monkey!” yelled Hades, a cry that echoed to the corners of the underworld. “He’s down here somewhere, I can feel it!”  
A pulled myself to my feet and began stumbling away from the commotion, picking up speed as I regained my energy and my bearings. The water of the Styx soaked into my legs and rather than weakening them it amazingly seemed to give me strength. I initially thought I was prepared for this, at camp we’d run long distances to train and our course often took us to the beach so I had practice running on sand but I soon remembered that…well, that I was a tub of lard. It wasn’t long at all before my legs burned like the Styx water should have and my lungs made me sound like I smoked a pack a day. I swivelled my head and caught a glimpse of my pursuers.

“Christ on a bike!” I wailed, a horde of ghosts far closer to me than I expected. It didn’t look like any of them had seen me yet, they were all engrossed in looking at their immediate surroundings but I was easily visible against the dark landscape and it wouldn’t be long before one of them spotted me. This was almost enough motivation to get my legs moving faster…almost. My crippling lack of fitness held me down, trying to anchor my feet to the ground. I could summon plants and drive people insane but the most taxing thing I had ever experienced was exercise. I stumbled along, getting slower and more tired despite the certain death, or re-death, following me.  
“Why Dionysus,” I complained. “Why are you such a fat piece of shit?”  
I ran on, although my run was closer to a crawl. My feet dragged and my torso wretched as I struggled for air. I was in the middle of thinking how little chance I had of escaping before a cry went up a hundred or so metres behind me.  
“We’ve found him!”  
I glanced back and saw dozens of spirits running in my direction before out of the mist bounded Cerberus, racing ahead of the rest of the pack and tearing toward me like a truck. I fell to my knees at the edge of the River Styx, felt the hopelessness consume me, put my head down and wept.

 

 

Depression

What was the point?  
I knelt in the sand and let my tears spill into the dark mysterious water in front of me. I thought about swimming, maybe I could cross the river and Hades wouldn’t be able to follow me… but the thought was washed away and replaced by a sense of pointlessness. Why did I need to get away? Why bother? We’re all going to die eventually. I may as well just give up.  
Cerberus was upon me now, halted only by the call of his master.  
“Heel Cerberus!” ordered Hades as he rode up in his chariot with a surprisingly relaxed attitude for someone who only minutes before had been fuming. His smug grin indicted why.  
“At least Jackson’s pearls took him to the surface you moron,” remarked the god. “I don’t know what kind of janky shit you were using to escape but it didn’t help you a whole lot did it?”  
I slowly turned my head toward him and saw Persephone behind him in the chariot, although it meant nothing. I barely heard the words he spoke; my disregard for anything other than death was so overwhelming his speech lost its meaning, his threats were empty. A gazed around at the spirits that we gradually arriving and encircling me. My future stood around me. I was going to be destroyed and sent to Tartarus, a place so dark and evil that if I ever managed to pull myself from the depths of the pit I’d be broken, I’d be one of these mindless soldiers standing around waiting for Hades to give me an instruction and I’d comply unquestionably. This was my fate.

“You’re bold, I’ll give you that,” said Hades, continuing his irrelevant monologue. “In the millennia you’ve been down here no one’s been bold enough, or stupid enough, to do what you did. Well, other than that Hitler bloke. He kept saying something about juice…but anyway. The thing is boy; balls like yours aren’t always a good thing.”  
He stepped down from his chariot and started wandering over to where I was. Persephone stayed in the chariot, watching on with indifference.  
“Because sometimes balls like yours cause you to piss someone off, and sometimes that someone is **the** **lord of the fucking dead**!”  
Hades paused a moment, recomposing himself.  
“Initially I just wanted to kill you but that chase gave me time to think about what I want to do to you Grandnephew.”  
He grabbed me by the throat and lifted me, my feet dangling helplessly above the floor. He started choking me but I meant nothing, I was already dead.  
“First, I’m going to destroy your soul and send it to Tartarus, leave you there for a few hundred years. Then I’m going to drag you from the pit, chain you to a scalding lump of metal, and have nuns beat you with a rake.”  
He threw me to the ground and planted his boot on my chest, pushing me into the sand as all the air was forced from my lungs.  
“And while all this is going on, I might have some fun up above. I’ll find a nice location for your lump of metal so while you’re having your insides repeatedly ripped out by crazed nuns you’ll have a nice view of your dead brother and mother being tortured in the Fields of Punishment.”

The latter meant nothing, I’d never known my mother, but his promise to kill my brother hit me harder than his foot on my stomach.  
“No,” I gurgled. “No, Hades, you can’t you piece of shit!”  
“Actually I can, and you know what?” he asked, leaning in close to my face. “I’m going to enjoy it.”  
“Leave my brother alone you fuck!” I screamed. “He’s a good person! He deserves Elysium!”  
“So did you!” roared Hades, pressing down harder and cracking my ribs. I cried out in pain, feeding Hades’ aggression. “But you went and fucked it up Castor! So now you, your brother, and everyone you love will die. It’s all because of you, and you can’t do a thing to stop it Castor,” Hades laughed. “You going to be in Tartarus,” he said, and pressed down a little harder.  
“Castor Oil, do you accept you fate?”  
I looked up at him, a god towering over me. I looked around at the legions of ghosts and beasts, furies circling overheard. I felt my ribs, shattered beyond repair and I thought of my brother, painfully unaware of what was going to happen. I really only had one choice on how to answer.

 

 

Acceptance

“ _No._ ”  
I looked at all the ghosts and skeletons standing around me, their minds lost and pushed to the point of no return by endless underworld. All these spirits had accepted their deaths and now they were empty shells, any life or emotion or characteristic that might make them even slightly unique leeched out.  
I refused to end up like that.  
“I’m not going to be your bitch Hades.”  
“Then you’re a fool,” he said, and raised his foot to crush me.

Then the Styx erupted. Its waters jumped from the banks and slammed into Hades. It spread out like a flood, dousing Hades, myself and every spirit within forty metres of us. Cerberus had to quickly scamper away to avoid getting soaked. Again I was miraculously unharmed, in fact I felt stronger and my ribs hurt less, and being a god Hades was fine as well but every ghost that was soaked instantly started to dissolve, cries going up all around me. Hades looked around incredulously, one-tenth of his army instantly gone. The waters subsided and returned to their usual course but as they retreated a woman stepped from the murk. She looked like she could be beautiful, long black hair with alabaster skin and a slender build, walking with a movement that could only be described as flowing. She looked ill however, the whites of her eyes a shade of green, malnutrition evident on her frame. Her hair was strewn with rubbish and filth, her face contorted in anger as her eyes smouldered with a hatred I had never witnessed before. She walked to where I lay on the ground and planted herself between me and Hades.  
“Stay away from my son.”

I stared at her, unable to understand what she had just said, unable to understand what it meant for me. Hades looked just as confused as I did, except he also looked almost as angry as the woman.  
“What the fuck Styx!” he bellowed. “This boy is Dionysus’s son, not yours!” He looked around at the space where some of his best soldiers had previously stood and at the others that were warily backing away from the river. “You destroyed hundreds of my soldiers you dumb bitch! What the shit!”  
“Oh, Dionysus,” said Styx a bit wistfully. “He does love to party.” She turned her attention back to the god in front of her. “Let him go Hades. Let him get back to his brother and old life.”  
“Why they fuck would I do that?!”  
“Because I told you to! He is my son, I saved him from your palace and I will save him here as well!  
“Why do you think you have the right to let someone leave? You’re a river! You don’t control the dead!”  
“I can do what I wish Hades! I am the border between life and the underworld!”  
“I **am** the underworld you whore!”  
Hades extended his hand and shadows shot from his palm. They wrapped around my mother’s neck and started to constrict, lifting her into the air.  
“No!”  
I jumped to my feet, my ribs apparently back in place and mended which helped me come to terms with the fact that my mother was the River Styx. I felt a surge of energy and I directed it into my right hand, pain springing up behind my eye.  
“Drop her Hades,” I growled.  
“You caused all this you shit!” yelled Hades, gesturing around him. “Why should I take orders from you?”  
I nodded behind him and he gasped when he turned and saw his wife held at the neck by grape vines, struggling to breathe.

It took Hades a moment to register what was happening.  
“Dionysus!” bellowed Hades. “Piss off you cheeky bastard! This is my domain!”  
“Dionysus isn’t here,” I snapped, tightening my right fist. The vines around Persephone’s throat tightened as well, her gasps for air becoming more intense.  
Again confusion covered Hades’ face, struggling to understand the situation.  
“You?” he queried. “How? You’re just a demigod.”  
“Are you sure?” I countered, the realisation that I have two godly parents finally dawning on me. I realised Styx was still struggling for air so I clenched my fist even tighter and Persephone started to convulse, her body making shuddering attempts to inhale.  
“Stop!” bellowed Hades. He raised his other hand and more shadows extended forth. I channelled energy into my left palm and drew on energy from my mother, goddess of hatred. I thought about how much I despised Hades and the underworld and the guy who had killed me, and transformed that hatred into a barrier of energy all around me. Hades’ shadows slammed into it, the barrier preventing them from touching me but with cracks appearing at the points of impact. Hades tried again, panic evident on his face as he glanced at his wife. Being a goddess, Persephone couldn’t die but I knew they could be hurt and I knew being suffocated definitely wouldn’t be good, even for a goddess. That’s why I had to protect my mother from the same fate.

Hades struck a third time with his shadows and the barrier cracked more, its strength decreasing by the second. Styx could see as well as I could that I couldn’t hold the barrier for much longer, and pushing the smallest amount of air through her lips whispered “help, brother.”  
Hades’ shadows slammed twice more into my shield and the third time they pierced, the barrier exploding as I fell backwards struggling to keep my right hand clenched.  
“Now you die!” roared Hades, his shadows diving in for the final strike. They were stopped short as Charon appeared out of the mist and leapt from his boat, his paddle transforming onto a scythe mid-air and cutting through the shadow like butter. He landed with finesse and threw his scythe, the blade slicing through the shadows suspending my mother and returning to his hand. Hades threw a bolt of energy but it was deflected off the scythe, Charon showing remarkable skill for a ferryman. “Fall back Hades, or your wife dies,” warned Charon, nodding at Persephone who had gone limp. Hades looked back and forth between us and his wife before throwing his hands up in exasperation.  
“Fine you fucks!” he relented as he, his chariot, his forces and his dog began melting into shadow. “And you wonder why you don’t get a pay rise,” he grumbled, looking at Charon as he disappeared. I released Persephone and she fell to the ground, following the trend and melting into shadows as Hades transported everyone back to where they belonged. I wasn’t sure if Persephone was dead or not, but at that point I didn’t really care. I collapsed, exhausted, as my mother and uncle walked to my side.

“Thank you, both of you,” I said as I sat opposite my family on the shores of my mother.  
“At first I questioned whether I should do it, whether I should break the laws of the dead,” replied my mother. “But after seeing the lengths you were going to…” She drifted off, looking around her at the dark walls and fiery atmosphere. “It almost killed me to see you down here.”  
“I’m sorry for bringing you down here in the first place lad,” apologised Charon.  
“That’s ok uncle, you were just doing your job. Could you, um,” I pointed at his scythe, sticking unnervingly out of the sand.  
“Oh, of course,” he replied, waving his hand and changing his weapon back into a boat paddle.  
We sat in silence for few minutes, enjoying each other’s company.  
“How’s Pollux doing?” my mother spoke up. The excitement of soon seeing him was bubbling around in my stomach but I managed to keep myself under control.  
“A lot better than I am.”  
A smile broke out on my mother’s usually aggressive face and Charon gave a small chuckle. It was nice to see them happy; the underworld didn’t exactly seem like the happiest place to live. We sat talking for a while longer; my mother had basically my whole childhood to catch up on.

“There’s several secret passages between the underworld and the over world along my banks,” said Styx as we stood up after hours of sitting and talking.  
“Walk along the water’s edge, I’ll ripple when you come to one. Swim across to the other side and when you emerge from my waters your form will be physical again. You’ll be able to leave this place and go back to your life. I’m glad I finally met you Castor.” She hugged me and melted back into her river as Charon climbed aboard his raft.  
“Where will you go first?” asked Charon as he pushed away from the bank.  
“There’s someone I need to find,” I replied. “And kill.”

 

 

 

Epilogue

Unbeknownst to Castor, a figure could be seen in the distance. Several hundred metres away on a rocky peak there sat a cheese grater the size of a person. Alexander sat there, not watching due to his lack of eyes, not waiting due to no concept of time, but sitting there nonetheless. If he had a brain he would have thought “you’re not getting away that easily Castor” and then laughed maniacally. He didn’t do that though, because he’s a cheese grater.

**Author's Note:**

> I realise Styx is generally considered an Oceanide and wouldn't be related to Charon, however in the Hyginus Preface she is said to be a daughter of Nyx meaning she's Charon's half-sister so that's the myth I went with.
> 
> Shout out to my editor The Millinator/Tan-man/Tan.J.Miller for picking up on all my mistakes and making my work sound better.
> 
> Second shout out to Rachel Slurs/Aunty Deb/Sir Shatanaxe for reading my work and picking up on the mistakes Tan-man mistakenly missed when he was editing. (Don't worry, he's fired)


End file.
